Chapter 3

Briony's POV

He let go of my jaw like touching me disgusted him, and walked off toward the main house without another word.

Halric cleared his throat like a man trying to fill the silence with something, anything. "The pack will need to see you both tomorrow. Publicly. To confirm the bond."

"Publicly." I repeated it because my brain needed a second to catch up with what that actually meant,standing in front of everyone who already called me the spare, now wearing a mark that said I belonged to a man who couldn't stand the sight of me.

"That's how it's done." Halric wouldn't look at me either. Seemed to be a theme tonight.

Someone came jogging across the field before I could ask him anything else, broad-shouldered, easy grin even at this hour, hair the color of rust catching torchlight. He skidded to a stop in front of me and looked me over like he was doing the math on the whole situation in real time.

"You're not Marisol," he said.

"No kidding."

"Right. Sorry. Rowan." He stuck a hand out, then seemed to realize how strange that was given everything else happening tonight, and dropped it halfway. "Beta. Kieran's…. well. I'm the one who has to go calm him down after he does something like whatever he just did to your face."

"He didn't hit me."

"I know. I meant the yelling." Rowan winced. "He's not usually like that. He is tonight, but not usually."

"Comforting."

"Wasn't trying to comfort you. Just explaining." He fell into step beside me as Halric led us both toward the main house, and for the first time all night somebody's voice didn't make my stomach hurt. "For what it's worth, none of this is your fault. You didn't ask for any of it."

"Doesn't seem to matter what I asked for."

"Yeah." He said it quietly, like he actually meant it. "That part's true."

The main house was bigger than anywhere I ever slept, all stone and dark wood, and Halric walked me straight past the wide staircase that had to lead to Luna's chambers and down a narrower hallway instead, to a door at the end that looked like it hadn't been opened in years.

"This is yours," he said.

I pushed the door open. Small room. Bed against the wall, a chair, a window that didn't quite shut all the way. Nothing like what I'd expect for the mate of an Alpha, but exactly what I'd expect for somebody the pack had decided didn't count as one.

"Kieran's orders?"

"Kieran's orders," Halric confirmed, and had the decency to look uncomfortable saying it.

"Right." I set my hand on the doorframe and didn't go in yet. "And what exactly are Kieran's orders, since we're being honest tonight?"

Rowan answered before Halric could dodge it. "Stay out of pack business. Stay out of his way. He'll come to you when it's time." He said the last part fast, like he wanted it over with. "For the heir."

"For the heir." I said it back flat, testing how it sounded out loud. It sounded exactly as bad as I thought it would.

"Briony…"

"It's fine." It wasn't, but saying that out loud twice in one night felt like giving something away I didn't want to give. "I get it. I'm not the sister they wanted. I'm just the body that showed up instead."

Nobody argued with me. That told me everything I needed to know.

I was halfway through the door when boots hit the hallway floor behind me and I didn't have to turn around to know whose they were. My skin knew before my eyes did, a pull low in my chest, like my body had signed a contract my brain never agreed to.

"One more thing." Kieran's voice, right behind me now.

I turned. Up close, in real light, he looked worse than he had at the stone, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red like he hadn't slept in days, like this whole night had cost him something he wasn't going to say out loud.

"You don't leave this house without an escort," he said. "You don't speak for this pack. You don't wear my mark like it means something it doesn't."

"I didn't ask to wear it."

"No." His eyes dropped to my wrist, to the bite still raw there, then came back up to my face. Something crossed his expression, gone before I could look at it twice. "You didn't. Doesn't change what it means now."

"Which is what, exactly?"

He stepped closer, close enough that the pull in my chest turned into something sharper, something that made my breath catch in a way I hated. "It means you're mine to deal with. Not mine to want." His jaw worked once, like the next part cost him. "Don't confuse the two."

He was gone before I could answer, boots echoing back down the hall, and I stood there with my hand still on the doorframe and that word ‘want’ sitting wrong in my chest, twisting into something I didn't have a name for yet either.